Page 105 of Pretty Vengeance

Hugging her to me, I whisper, “Agreed.”

She shudders. “He fooled me for so fucking long. I thought he was so nice for chaperoning my class trips and events. What if he only did that to watch the other kids? Or worse?” Her teeth chatter as if she’s standing in the cold. “It makes me so sick.”

“Will you stand watch for me once more? This time outside the room where he’s working and text me if he comes out?”

“What are you going to do?”

“Find and clone his personal computer. So later, I’ll have proper time to go through it and find anything he’s trying to hide.”

Her brows furrow. “Like pictures of Jude?”

“Or any child.”

Drawing in a breath, she steps back, growing pale again. “You mean porn, don’t you? Child pornography?”

I frown, not wanting to tell her about the disgusting things I’ve uncovered on the devices of men like him. “This can be pretty nasty business, yeah. It’s why I’ll go through it alone.”

Balling her fists and clenching her jaw, I see her buck up. “Collecting images isn’t worse than actually grabbing a child and sexually assaulting him, so there’s no reason for me to be shocked. It’s just… I’ve never thought about what men like him do in secret. If he has that kind of porn, then he paid someone for it. And the sellers exploited other kids to make it, bringing the damage he’s caused to even higher levels. It’s disgusting.”

Disgusting… the exact word.

“Yeah. But when I uncover how he acquired it, I can track the others through the meta data and stop them, too.”

Blowing out a breath, she nods. “I’ll keep watch. Do what you need to do.”

* * *

SAWYER

We don’t have asmuch time as we’d like because my dad emerges from his study too quickly. At least I send a warning text in time.

Late afternoon passes in a blur.

Jamie and I have reversed roles. When we arrived at the house, I was the one who was able to engage normally with my dad, making small talk and smiling as though nothing was wrong. Now, I’m the one who’s distracted and having a hard time forcing a smile.

As Jamie and I prepare dinner, my dad stands at the island, drinking red wine and peppering Jamie with questions about Ireland and his family. I don’t understand how Jamie doesn’t tell him to fuck off. Instead, he’s cool and composed as he focuses on talking about his parents and sisters. Jamie never says Jude’s name or mentions him. Not even when my dad tries to ask him if he has a brother.

My strangle grip on the knife is because I’m dangerously close to burying it in his hand to stop him from badgering Jamie for painful information. It’s almost as if he knows… A chill runs down my spine. Jamie recognized my dad, but he was an adult at the time of Jude’s abduction. Is it possible that, even though Jamie was only eight or nine at the time, that my dad recognizes him, too?

If so, it’s beyond cruel to try to dig things up. The sour unrest in my stomach returns, and I have to excuse myself to the bathroom until I can overcome the urge to vomit.

When I’m back in the kitchen, I want to scream questions and accusations at my dad. Such as,how could you!?And,what the fuck is in the locked secretary cabinet in your bedroom that Jamie couldn’t get into before you emerged from your office?

My dad offers Jamie, who’s already refused wine, a cocktail.

“Nah, I’m grand,” Jamie says with an easy smile as he chops carrots. “No liquor until we’ve put the knives away. I get a wee bit clumsy when I’m in my cups.” He leans over and shakes some seasoning onto the steak cubes I’m tenderizing with a meat mallet. “Have you any Guinness, Mr. Allendale? Giving the meat a soak in stout will give it the best flavor.”

“No Guinness. No beer at all, I’m afraid.”

“If I were a better guest, I’d have brought some. Next time.” Jamie opens the fridge and takes out steak sauce. He tosses the meat into a bowl and pours the sauce and red wine over the top of the meat.

“That’s an expensive marinade,” Dad says.

“Right, okay.” Jamie holds up a hand in apology and sets the bottle back near my dad. “It was only a splash. Less than I’d have drunk to be sure if I were drinking.”

“Are you a heavy drinker?”

“By island standards, no.”